


Call me Daddy

by Ishxallxgood



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Daddy Kink, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hannibal is Alana's Father, Hannibal is terrible, LITERALLY, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Prostate Massage, Rimming, Spanking, They destroy a chair, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, Will's pretty terrible too, inspired by porn, slight exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:14:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23125330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ishxallxgood/pseuds/Ishxallxgood
Summary: Will has been dating Alana for a while now, but when she introduces him to her father, he finds that his heart has started to wander.When she breaks up with him for being too unstable, he finds his stability in the arms of her father, one Dr. Hannibal Lecter.
Relationships: Past Alana Bloom/Will Graham, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 38
Kudos: 495
Collections: Wendigo & Stag





	Call me Daddy

"Alana," Hannibal says, switching on the light to his study. He is not entirely surprised to see her there, after all, this is her home too. Although it is rather unexpected, considering he had just helped her settle in with one, Will Graham. "What a pleasant surprise."

Alana sniffles, shifts in the oversized chair she had always favored whenever she was upset. "Papa," she says softly, the quiver evident in her voice.

"What brings you home, dear child?"

"Will and I broke up." Alana's voice is soft, broken. He could practically taste her tears in the air, smell her distress.

“Would you like to talk about it?" Hannibal offers, taking the chair beside her.

"No," she mumbles into her knees. Hannibal reaches out, strokes her hair gently and she takes a deep breath before lifting her head. "I broke up with him," she says softly, as if the tenderness of her words could negate the pain. "It never would have worked. He's too unstable, and I will never stop trying to fix him."

Hannibal hums in contemplation. She is right, they never would have worked, but Will Graham is not broken. Far from it. "Time and circumstance can change at anytime. You shouldn't devalue or hurt anyone in life, dear child, for you may feel powerful today, but remember, time is more powerful than you."

Alana swallows. Lips tight as she meets his eyes. "I'm sorry, papa, I don't want to talk about this right now. I'm going to bed, sorry to disturb your evening."

"Nonsense, darling," he says, stroking her hair once more before releasing her to the night. "You are always welcome here."

"I know papa, thank you," she says pressing a kiss to his cheek before taking her leave.

Hannibal watches her go, the corner of his lips ticking up as the door closes behind her. Oh sweet, beautiful, Alana. He is proud of the woman she's become. Smart, witty, independent. He admires her ability to hold her own against him, but he also harbors a deep disdain for the sanctimonious asshole she's become. It is unbecoming, and certainly not learned from him. He would have to have another conversation with Bedelia. In the meantime, he has Will Graham to consider.

Mister Graham is everything his daughter is not. He is as beautiful as he is brilliant, with a darkness simmering under the surface that matched his own. While Alana chooses to remain blind, he can see Will bathed in blood and gold. All he needs is a little push, to tip him over the edge and into Hannibal’s arms.

\-----

Will stares down the long driveway of his new house, the road barely visible from his vantage point. What was once a refuge in the storm, a boat in the sea, feels hollow and empty. 

The house had been perfect when he chose it, with minimal input from Alana. She had insisted that if he was happy, she was happy with it, and Will was happy with it. It has taken him a while, but he had managed to find a place with enough land for his dogs, and with a stream on the property which allowed him to fish without ever having to leave home. But most importantly, it was situated between Baltimore and Quantico, giving them an equal commute. 

Although, he had to admit that he was quite smitten by the physical aspect of it too. He loved the large wrap-around porch, which gave him ample room to bathe and take care of the dogs without having to make a mess inside. The three bedrooms and two baths on the upper floor, was more than enough room for the both of them and a guest should the occasion arise (and he had hoped it would arise in the form of her father). It was the kitchen though, which ultimately sold him. The large, albeit dated kitchen was everything her father would have loved and hated at the same time, and he knew the moment he stepped foot in there that he could find himself at home there.

The first time they brought her father to inspect the house with them, Will had been treated to visions of the man occupying every inch of the space. He had moved through the house, hands trailing over the trims and walls as he hummed his approval. He did have many opinions on how the house could be improved, but they were all easy fixes, things Will could even do on his own, and then they got to the kitchen. Will had watched him, with a small smile, as her father pursed his lips and verbally tore the kitchen apart. In the end, he had insisted that Alana allow him to purchase the place for them under the condition that he be allowed to bring the kitchen up to his standards. 

Alana graciously accepted and gave Will full control over fixing and furnishing the place. Will was delighted to find that those responsibilities involved being subjected to her father almost daily for days on end. From refinishing the master suite to refining the plans for the kitchen, her father was there to ensure his vision aligned with Will's. It was only when Will had suggested they reuse most of his existing furniture that he resisted. Although he did finally acquiesce on the condition that Will allowed him to purchase him  _ one  _ new piece of furniture. 

At the time, it had been easy to agree, it was only  _ one _ armchair, but now he sorely regrets the decision. Not one did the  _ one piece _ of furniture cost more than everything he owned (minus the piano) put together, but every single time Will caught a glimpse of that goddamn chair, all he could see was  _ Dr. Lecter. _ Will sighs, takes one last look down the empty drive and turns to refill his drink. 

"Fuck," he curses, sinking down into  _ that chair,  _ a sigh escaping him as he's enveloped in the feel and smell of butter soft leather. Will hates himself for the almost physiological response to the chair, but he has to admit that he  _ loves _ the chair.

It is a good chair. 

A solid chair. 

An extravagant chair with more than enough room for him (and another if he so chooses). The first time he sunk into it, he had let out an obscene moan which Alana teased him relentlessly for. He had smiled weakly back at her as she whispered lewd suggestions as to what they could do together on the chair. Regrettably, he couldn't focus on her words though, because all he could focus on at that moment was the glint in her father's eye. While she talked, his brain unhelpfully supplied him with images of him, straddling Dr. Lecter's thighs, riding that cock until they both came together, staining the chair beyond repair.

Buster’s whine and Winston’s wet nose against his hand pulls him from the memory (fantasy, if he were to be honest with himself). Putting the glass down, he runs a hand through Winston’s fur, scratching behind his ear as he watches Buster stare intently at the door. He wants to tell the dog that it's hopeless, that Alana had broken up with him, and that they might soon have to evict this place he loves. He doesn't want to. He loves this house. He loves the amount of work he put into it, that  _ they _ put into it. He loves how every square inch of it is imbued with the essence of one, Dr. Lecter. He'll be sad to let it go, not that he isn't sad that Alana had let  _ him _ go. He is definitely upset over the disintegration of his relationship, but in a way,  _ that _ he had seen coming.

Alana had never been right for him. Not since the beginning. Sure, he had been attracted to her for far longer than he can remember. She was, no,  _ is, _ beautiful, smart, and witty. She had always managed to put up with his  _ weirdness _ and allowed him to be himself. She rarely triggered his empathy the way most people did and he simply loved their conversations. There was just something about her insights and the way she spoke that made him feel heard. She had made him happy, content even, and had been a wonderful companion, but then he met her father.

Perhaps if they had met under different circumstances things would have evolved a bit differently, but a little part of him doubts it. He wants to believe that he fell for Dr. Lecter due to the stability he offered, because he was the paddle Will needed when he was lost in the sea of his own head. He  _ wants _ to believe that he had become one of those cases where the patient falls for the therapist, because it was easier to accept that than the fact that he had simply fallen for Dr. Lecter. In the end, he had to admit to himself that they were never really officially  _ doctor _ and  _ patient. _ That they were simply two men having conversations. That he had fallen for the man the moment he met him. That Dr. Lecter had awakened something deep inside of him. It was as if he had been asleep his whole life, muted, blind and deaf, living behind a veil which had only been lifted the moment he met Dr. Lecter's eye. It had felt like coming home. Like finding his other half, that piece of him which had been split from him at the dawn of time, and finally,  _ finally, _ feeling whole again.

What does it matter now though? Alana is gone, and he doubts that her  _ father _ would still want anything to do with him. The man his daughter deemed too unstable to date. The man who sees too much and is drowning in the personas of all the killers Jack Crawford subjects him to. He's not unstable though, and those dark corners, well they really aren’t all that dark. He finds comfort in them, and perhaps that might make him a  _ little _ unstable, but it’s hard to admit when he finds that he has never known himself as well as he does when in the presence of Dr. Lecter.

Alana was right to break up with him, he had been a shitty partner these past few months. He had been a shitty partner to her the moment he met her father. When he started fantasizing about that man, pretending it was his cologne he was breathing in whenever he held Alana close. Imagining that it was his long, dexterous fingers trailing over his body when Alana touched him. He knew he had fallen in too deep the first time he had to pretend he was fucking into Dr. Lecter in order to maintain his erection when having sex with Alana. It was wrong, oh so very wrong, but fuck did it feel so right. No wonder Alana dumped him.

The crunch of gravel and Buster’s excited barks draw him from his self-loathing, and he stands, scrambling for the door. His breath catches when he sees the door of the sleek Bentley open, his heart rabbiting inside his chest when Dr. Lecter's lean frame unfolds from the car and Alana is nowhere in sight.

Will fidgets with the door, fighting with the lock to pull it open. "Dr. Lecter," he breathes in disbelief, as Buster runs from between his legs to greet his new favorite human. Will tracks the small dog's movements, a surge of jealousy washing through him as he is swept up into Dr Lecter's arms. Buster yips excitedly, licking at the good doctor’s face as he is cooed at, nimble hands roaming across his neck and down his back. Will is loathed to admit that in that moment, he would have given anything to trade places with a dog. 

"You're here," Will says, in lieu of a proper greeting when Hannibal reaches the porch, dropping Buster back down with one last scratch behind his ears. "What are you doing here?" It isn't what he meant to say. Or rather it is exactly what he meant to say, because he cannot imagine  _ why _ Dr. Lecter would be here. Now. At his home. Granted they did have a standing lunch date,  _ appointment,  _ not a date, but it was to finalize the upgrades to the kitchen, upgrades he didn't think were still on the table now that Alana is out of the picture.

Dr. Lecter smiles politely back at him, the slight crinkle in his eyes betraying his amusement. "Where else would I be, my sweet boy? Did we not agree to meet this afternoon?"

Will swallows thickly, thrown off by the endearment, but savoring the way it made his heart skip. "Yes, but I just figured since Alana and I broke up you'd be kicking me out of the house."

"And why would I do that?" Dr. Lecter asks, voice smooth like honey as he lets himself into the house. Will follows, whistling for Buster to come, even though the small dog has already started to follow after his favorite human.

"I don't know," Will says, taking Dr. Lecter's coat, fumbling with it awkwardly before remembering that the house doesn't have a coat closet and instead moves to drape it over the arm of the couch. "Because you bought the house for us?"

Dr. Lecter turns, hands trailing the back of the chair he insisted on getting Will, his eyes shining with delight as they find Will's. "You'll find dear Will," he says with a slow calculated drawl, dragging out each word as he drinks in the changes to Will's expression, "that the house is entirely under  _ your _ name."

"Wait what?" Will sputters, taking a step back and tripping over Buster who is running circles between the two of them. He corrects his balance, barely missing the dog as he lurches forward, catching himself on the chair, his fingers barely ghosting Dr. Lecter’s. "Why? How? Alana's your  _ daughter." _

“Yes,” Dr. Lecter hums in agreement, “that she is, but you and I both know that she was barely invested in  _ this _ house. She had been far more invested in the man than in the house, and you cannot deny that  _ you,  _ dear boy,  _ love _ this house.”

“I do,” Will admits in a breathless whisper, fighting the urge to run his fingers along the prominent veins tempting him on the back of Dr. Lecter’s hand. “I just figured that you know, since she’s your  _ daughter _ and all, at the very least her name would be on the deed.”

Dr. Lecter’s smile widens, his eyes grow soft with adoration as he takes Will’s hand into his own stroking the back of it the way he wanted to stoke his. Will tries to breath, but it seems good brain has short-circuited on the thought,  _ fuck his hands soft. _

“My darling boy,” Dr. Lecter says, and fuck do those words send a shiver down Will’s spine, right down to his cock. “Why should it matter that the house  _ you _ chose be also under  _ her _ name."

"Because she's your  _ daughter," _ Will finds himself repeating. He really doesn't want to fixate on that fact, but it seems he is unable to let it go.

"Yes, and she is a lovely child. In fact, I am infinitely proud of the woman she’s become, but  _ mylimasis, _ it has no bearing on my affections towards  _ you.” _

“Oh," Will says, the word escaping him in a soft gasp. He's focused on the word,  _ mylimasis. _ He doesn't know it, doesn't recognize it, but it is spoken so reverently it sends another shiver down his spine, makes him feel warm and  _ loved. _ Dr. Lecter has never used that word in reference to Alana, or her mother, or frankly ever in his recollection. He wants to believe it is an endearment reserved for  _ him. _ That that longing he feels inside for the good doctor is reciprocated. “Wow, I don’t know what to say.”

"A simple ‘thank you’ should suffice.”

Will blinks back at him. The warmth of Dr. Lecter's hand suddenly a brand upon his own. He wants to pull him closer, crawl inside and never come back out. "Thank you, Dr. Lecter," he whispers, breathlessly.

"Hannibal."

" _ Hannibal," _ Will repeats, and oh does that name just feel right, rolling off his tongue. They're closer now, when did they get so close? He could practically feel Dr. Lecter, no  _ Hannibal's, _ heat radiating off of him. Will swallows, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he leans closer. "Thank you, I love you- IT!" He corrects, hastily, yanking his hand back, out of Hannibal's grasp and taking a step back to open the gap between them. "I love  _ it, _ not you. I don't love you, I mean I do-"

Will snaps his mouth shut, face turning a bright red as he buries his face in his hands. "Oh god, what is wrong with me?"

Will feels Hannibal shift, closing the gap he had just created. "Come here, darling," he hears him say, warm fingers tugging his hands from his face as he is pulled flush against a broad chest. "What are you trying to say, sweet boy?"

"That I…" Will trails off, his face burning red as he shakes his head against Hannibal's shoulder.

"That you what, dear Will?" Hannibal asks, hooking his fingers under Will's chin to lift his face, force eye contact. "Love the house?"

Will nods weakly, mouth suddenly dry as he is pinned by Hannibal's eyes, unable to find his words.

"That you love  _ me?" _

Will swallows, attempts to duck his head again, only to be held firm. 

"Answer me, dear Will," Hannibal urges firmly. "Do you love me?"

Will nods again, squirming uncomfortably.

Hannibal's grip loosens, his hand moves from Will's chin to trail along his jaw, thumb sweeping across the swell of his cheek, tracing the shell of his ear before finally settling in his hair. "As a father, darling boy? Would you like to call me papa too, like Alana? Tėvelis perhaps, or maybe something a little more personal?  _ Daddy?" _

"Oh fuck," Will moans softly, the hand in his hair tightening, pulling at his hair just so. He squeezes his eyes shut, tries to push those images from his mind. How many nights has he jerked off to Daddy porn, pretending it was Dr. Lecter railing him from behind? Waiting for the day he and Alana would potentially marry, so he could in good faith call the man  _ daddy. _

"Do you like that, mylimasis?" Hannibal asks, nose brushing his as they share a breath. His fingers scratch lightly at his scalp, tugging intermediately and Will moans again. "Look at me, Will. Look at  _ Daddy _ when he is speaking to you."

Will's eyes snap open. The words,  _ yes sir, _ on the tip of his tongue. He is lost. Somewhere between fantasy and reality. Is this  _ actually _ happening right now? Is Dr. Lecter really there, in front of him, hand fisted in his hair calling himself  _ Daddy? _ Will blinks, bites the inside of his cheek, hard, and tastes the blood which subsequently floods his mouth. This  _ is _ happening, and Will can't decide if he's mortified or elated.

"Good boy," Hannibal praises when Will finally finds the courage to meet his eye. "I love you too," he says softly, and the next thing Will knows he is tasting Hannibal's tongue against his own.

Will moans into the kiss, hands finding Hannibal's hair, scratching down his back, grabbing at his ass. He needs Hannibal closer, and why are there so many layers between them? He fumbles for Hannibal's belt, pushing his hands between them to tug at the suit jacket, slip the tie from around his neck. It's still not enough. He has to fight through a waistcoat, stumble over one too many shirt buttons and to his utter dismay, be met with an undershirt. "What the fuck," Will bemoans, clawing at the undershirt as Hannibal sheds the outer layers. 

"Vulgar, impatient, boy," Hannibal chastises, punctuating every word with a hard nip to his bottom lip. 

"What are you going to do about it," Will challenges, eyes defiant as he moves to slip Hannibal's belt off, work open his pants, "spank me?  _ Daddy?"  _ He adds for good measure as he tugs the good doctor's pants off.

Hannibal helps pull the shirt over his head, steps out of his pants and works on pulling Will's jeans off. There is a darkness swimming just under the surface of his eyes, and Will finds that he would give anything to drown in it. "Don't tempt me, insolent boy."

The grin on Will's face widens. He feels like the Joker as he licks his lips and stares Hannibal down. "I double dog dare you."

Hannibal's ensuing growl goes straight to his cock and he doesn't even have a chance to register what is happening before he's staring down at the carpet with his ass bared to the world. "Oh, fuck me, Dr. Lecter," he screams at the first swat connects, his ass burning in the aftermath.

"In due time, incorrigible boy," Hannibal says, palm hitting the meaty flesh of Will's ass again. Will moans. Tries to rut down against him as the hits keep coming. He can feel the tip of Hannibal's erection against his stomach and he needs  _ more. _ He needs to be on his knees, choking on that cock. He needs to be impaled on that cock, fucking himself hard on it so he'll feel him inside him for days to come.

Hannibal hits him again, hard. His flesh is screaming and he is harder than he can ever remember being. Hannibal pauses, hand reaching around to stroke Will's raging hard-on. "Terrible, naughty boy," he whispers, low and hoarse in Will's ear. "So aroused for me. Did you think about me? Imagine  _ Daddy _ while you were fucking Alana?"

"Yes," Will hisses and Hannibal releases him. He is pinned against the man's lap, unable to move, to get the friction he needs. Hannibal's hand is heavy against his burning flesh. He moves to caress his marks softly, and Will manages to relax a fraction before the next blow comes. Tears sting his eyes and his nails dig into the leather of the chair, leaving marks in its wake. "Oh fuck!" He screams, squeezing his eyes shut as he anticipates the next blow.

It doesn't come. Will cracks an eye and chances a glance over at Hannibal. He is staring down at him, adoration plastered openly on his usually stoic face. Pushing himself up, Will dislodges Hannibal's hands from his ass and shifts so he's properly straddling him. "Dr. Lecter," he says, hands trailing up his arms to rest on his shoulders, against his neck. " _ Daddy, _ I need you you fuck me now, like Alana never could."

"Irresistible boy," Hannibal says, lips finding Will’s neck as he palms his ass roughly. 

Will gasps as Hannibal fits his teeth against his neck, licks at his pulse and sucks a livid mark. His hands scramble down the front of Hannibal's chest, fingers toying with the hair there, pinching at his nipples. Hannibal sucks a new mark onto his neck in retaliation, teeth bearing down a little harder. 

Will moans. Grinds his hips down as a long,  _ slick, _ finger breeches him slowly. "Oh, fuck," Will gasps out, burying his face into the crook of Hannibal's neck, hips lifting to give him better access. He mouths at Hannibal's neck, tongue tracing taut tendons, finding his pulse. Will bites down as a second finger is added, muffling his moan against Hannibal's flesh. 

It's good. 

It feels  _ so good. _ Hannibal's fingers are longer, thicker, stroking him in places Alana could never reach. Every brush against his prostate earns Hannibal another mark on his neck. Will  _ loves _ it. The feeling, the man.  _ This _ (straddling the good doctor, cocks sliding against each other as he's fingered open) is better than anything his brain could have ever conjured up. He needs more. He needs _ Hannibal _ buried deep inside of him. He needs to feel him for days, for the rest of his life. 

Will finds the open packet of lube on the arm of the chair. Lube is slowly leaking from it, pooling on the leather, undoubtedly staining it. Slicking his fingers with the excess lube, he snakes the hand between them and grasps them both. He strokes them in time with Hannibal's movements, rhythm stuttering every time Hannibal assaults his prostate just so. 

He can come like this. He knows he can, but he doesn't want to. He wants to come impaled on Hannibal's cock. He wants to come while being fucked within an inch of his life. “Oh fuck, you keep that up and I’m gonna come.”

Will can feel Hannibal smiling against his temple. He feels those fingers crook again, rubbing relentlessly at his prostate as he pushes down against his perineum with his thumb. The sensation is too much, just enough, and he tightens his fist, strokes upwards again and comes all over his hand and Hannibal’s cock.

"Fuck," Will moans, continues to stroke them through his mess. Hannibal's fingers against his prostate, his grip around their cocks push him past pleasure and dangerously close to pain. He doesn't stop though, even as he starts to go soft, and cannot control the pained whimpering escaping him.

“You're shaking, darling, do you need me to stop?" Hannibal asks, his voice pitched low and breathy against Will's ear as he continues to prod at his prostate, fingers stilling as Will shudders again. 

"Don't you fucking dare," Will hisses out when Hannibal makes a move to pull out. He grinds down on the hand lodged in his ass, moaning in pleasure and pain. "Fuck me, Dr. Lecter."

Hannibal smiles against him, fingers crooking again before swiftly pulling his hand free. Will whimpers from the loss, tries to grab at Hannibal's hand again only to have his hand caught. Hannibal shifts, lifts Will off of him, depositing him onto the chair, face shoved against the back and ass in the air. 

Will does his best to hold himself up, hands smearing his cum all over the leather. The chair will be ruined by the time they're done. Between the lube and the cum and the scratches in the leather, it will be forever tainted, and Will is thrilled by that thought. They are making the chair  _ theirs. _ This chair that Hannibal bought especially for  _ him. _

Hannibal’s hands are on him again, rubbing against tender flesh as he traces the marks he left behind. Will shivers under his ministrations, torn between wanting to be hit again and being filled. "Please," Will begs, pushing back against Hannibal's hands. "Please, Dr. Lecter, Hannibal,  _ Daddy," _ he amends when Hannibal tsks softly, while palming him roughly.

"Please,  _ what, _ precious boy? What is it that you want?"

Will growls, he wants to shove Hannibal back, throw him to the floor and just  _ take.  _ He doesn't though. He sucks in a breath, hands reaching around to grab at Hannibal. “Please fuck me,  _ Daddy,”  _ Will begs, pushing back against him.

Hannibal grinds up against him, cock sliding against the cleft of his ass as he presses his chest against Will. His breath is hot against the nape of Will’s neck, and Will shudders as he feels Hannibal’s teeth against him. “In due time, mylimasis,” Hannibal says, pressing a kiss against the fresh bite mark. Will moans as hands trail down his flanks, tender kisses pressed along his spine as Hannibal works his way down Will’s back.

There is a pause, and Will shivers in anticipation as Hannibal palms his ass again, spreads his cheeks.  _ Finally, _ he thinks, as Hannibal traces a thumb around his rim, pushing slightly but never penetrating, and then he feels Hannibal’s tongue, hot against his hole. “Oh fuck,” Will moans again. This was certainly not what he was expecting, but he is also not complaining. Hannibal knows what he’s doing. He knows  _ exactly _ how to tease and prod, and if he hadn’t just come, he is pretty sure this would do it for him (well this and a little bit of attention on his cock). 

“More,” Will moans when Hannibal cups his balls, works a finger in alongside his tongue, thumbs along his perineum. He wants it all. Hannibal’s hands, his tongue,  _ his cock  _ (only he has yet to have the pleasure of experiencing the latter). He is hard again, harder than he can ever remember being, and then without preamble, Hannibal withdraws. Will whimpers at the loss of his warmth, but then he feels the cold trickle of lube against his ass, and he moans loud and unabashedly as the blunt head of Hannibal’s cock  _ finally _ makes contact with his rim.

Hannibal takes his time sliding in. It sets every nerve ending in Will on fire with anticipation. He just wants to be fucked. Fucked like Alana could never fuck him. He wants the only words in his head to be " _ Yes, harder, Dr. Lecter."  _

Hannibal runs his hands through Will's hair, drapes his body across his back again as he bottoms out. He holds the position, hands finding Will's as he twines their fingers together. It feels good,  _ full,  _ but it's not enough. "Please," Will whimpers, turning to press kisses against the back of Hannibal's hand. "Please move,  _ fuck me, Dr. Lecter." _

With a snap of his hips Hannibal obliges him. All pretense is lost, tenderness fading away to ruthless thrusts. Will's mind goes blank. His body lax. Hannibal disentangles their hands, pulls roughly at his hair to jerk his head back, lips trailing along his jaw until they find his mouth. Will moans into the kiss, pushes back against him. It is perfect. It is everything he's been dreaming of and more. 

"Is this what you wanted, my darling boy? What you imagined while you fucked Alana?" Hannibal asks, a hint of a growl in his voice. 

"Yes," Will hisses, nails digging into the leather of the chair as Hannibal continues to pound into him.  _ This,  _ Hannibal fucking him into oblivion was  _ exactly _ what he had imagined the last few times he fucked Alana. He had even had her peg him a few times, but it was never enough, never as good as this. She had always been so gentle with him, handling him as if he was a fragile teacup, like he would break if she pushed too hard, and he had come to resent her for that. He is no delicate teacup. He is a mongoose, vicious and deadly. 

The door clicks open, the dogs bark excitedly and Hannibal's thrusts slow. Will lets out a whimper when Hannibal straightens up, leaving him bereft of his warmth. There is a gasp, and Hannibal stops all together, buried deep within Will’s ass. Will lets out a growl, reaches one hand behind him to claw at Hannibal's hip, to urge him to continue. 

Hannibal obliges him, picking up the pace again and pulls at Will’s hair until he turns and can be devoured again. Will is vaguely aware of the fact that Alana is most likely standing  _ right there,  _ but he simply can't make himself care. Not when he's tearing at the seams, heart rubbed raw by Hannibal's hands, and being stuffed full like a build-a-bear. 

"Rude, papa," Will hears Alana say through the fog, "shockingly rude.”

Will lets out a feral growl when Hannibal slows his thrusts again, hands petting through his hair, along his flanks, before finally settling on his hips. He can feel the tension of Hannibal's body, simply  _ knows _ the man is about to pull out. "Don't you dare," he warns, pushing back against Hannibal, urging him to move again. 

The grip on his hips tighten, stunting his movement. He has half a mind to flip them, to push Hannibal down onto the chair and just ride him to completion, but then Hannibal trusts in hard, his cock pressing just so against his prostate as he holds himself still. “What you would be rude, Alana, is if I stopped now,” Hannibal says, his voice deceptively calm. Will can practically hear Hannibal’s heart rabbiting in his chest, but he knows if he were to glance back at the man, he would be the perfect picture of composed. “Especially when my darling Will is begging me so sweetly to  _ not _ stop.”

Hannibal rolls his hips, eliciting a moan. Will tries to push back again, but he is held in a vice grip. He needs more. He needs Hannibal to fuck him again. He pushes himself up a little, so he can twist his torso and make eye contact with Hannibal. “If you fucking stop I’ll rip your balls off.”

Hannibal smiles. Presses a kiss against the corner of his mouth and looks back toward Alana, an eyebrow raised as if to say  _ “See?” _

“How could you, Will?” Alana asks.

Will turns to meet her eye, shrugs and drops his head again. “I was too unstable for you Alana,  _ Hannibal _ found a way to stabilize me.”

“Unbelievable,” Alana shrieks, “in my own home, too!"

"You will find, my child, that this house was never yours."

"What?" Will can understand the incredulousness in her voice, not even an hour ago he had been asking Hannibal the same question. He can care less now, not when Hannibal is balls deep in his ass. The house is inconsequential. All that matters is that Hannibal  _ move.  _

"Oh fuck," Will moans, struggling not to collapse into the chair as Hannibal pulls back just to thrusts back in. Hard. Hitting his prostate just so. "It means," he struggles to say, "that the house is entirely under my name."

"What? I don't understand." Alana is moving now, heels clicking against the hardwood floors and Will can’t help but think that she’s trying to get a better angle. Must be quite the show they’re putting on right now.

Will can feel Hannibal smile against his nape, fingers bruising on his hips as he picks back up a brutal pace. "The house was never yours, Alana.  _ Will _ was never yours."

Will bites his bottom lip, stifles another moan as Hannibal wraps his hand around his cock, pumping him in time with his trusts. "Oh fuck, Dr. Lecter," he screams, shuddering through his release as he paints the chair white.

Alana stills. He can feel her eyes bearing into him as she stumbles backwards, away from them. Somewhere one of his dogs barks, Buster if he had to guess. "Oh my God," she gasps, "did you always fantasize about my father when we…" her voice trails off as Will looks up sheepishly at her. 

"Oh, my sweet boy," Hannibal coos, petting through his sweaty hair as he slowly pulls out and Will whimpers at the lost, fighting the urge to rut back against him. Hannibal presses a kiss to the underside of his ear, two fingers slipping back into his aching hole to plug him back up. "Did I live up to your fantasies?"

"Fuck yes," Will pants, turning to catch his lips again, shuddering as Hannibal rubs at his engorged prostate. "Oh, god yes,  _ Dr. Lecter,  _ better than anything I could have possibly imagined." His cock makes a feeble attempt to fill again, as if it had not just been milked twice.

"Unbelievable!" Alana shrieks and Will snaps his head back towards her, driving his hips down on Hannibal’s fingers. She glares at them, and Will can see that she is torn between stalking over there and slapping him and storming out of the house. Honestly he doesn’t blame her, but he also can’t stop the movement of his hips, the moan he releases as Hannibal pulls him upright, his free hand tweaking one of Will’s nipples before tightening against his chest, holding Will flush against him.

“Isn’t it?” Hannibal asks, pressing his teeth against Will’s neck, pushing another finger in, stuffing Will full. “Insatiable boy, our Will. How valiantly he’s trying to fill for the third time.”

_ "Your _ Will," Will corrects, twisting his head to dislodge Hannibal and press a sloppy kiss against his lips. "I am a little too unstable for her, but you stabilize me,"  _ with your cock, _ goes unsaid but is understood when Hannibal continues the assault on his prostate. He is shaking, from overstimulation, from pleasure, from pain. He's going to be sore for days, and probably sleep better tonight than he has ever slept in his life. "Only insatiable for you, Dr. Lecter, Hannibal,  _ Daddy." _

Alana makes an indignant noise in response, Buster nipping at her heels as she almost trips over the dog who is almost always underfoot. "How long has this been going on?"

"This?" Will asks around an unabashed moan, "probably a little over an hou-  _ oh fuck, _ Dr. Lecter," Will screams, muscles convulsing as Hannibal works a dry orgasm out of him, holding him as his legs give out and he's a shaking, quivering mess on the chair. It is  _ so good.  _ It had never felt that good _ ever. _

"No, not  _ this,"  _ she exclaims with a huff, and without looking Will simply  _ knows _ she’s crossing her arms. “This, this  _ thing  _ with my father.”

Hannibal hums, shifts their positions and settles onto the chair, pulling Will onto his lap. Will sighs, nuzzling against the hair on Hannibal's chest as his arms close around him. He is warm and solid against him, and if Will allows himself, he simply knows he will fall asleep right there and then. “One could argue from the very moment we met,” Hannibal says, pressing a tender kiss against Will's hair. "Although, dear Will had been nothing but professional, and out of respect for you, I had not sought to pursue him until you so graciously discarded him."

Will nods in agreement. He had never been one to believe in serendipity, or love at first sight, or anything like that, but he cannot deny the connection they had. Something definitely sparked inside him the first time he met Hannibal's eye.

"Respect," Alana scoffs, and Will lifts his head to glance over at her, "I fail to see any respect  _ here." _

Will shifts, scowling as he regards her, upset that she has disrupted the quiet calm of his post coital bliss. "Alana," he says, hands carding through Hannibal's chest hair, "I would say I'm sorry you walked in on that, but I'm not.  _ You _ broke up with  _ me. This  _ wasn't planned, it just happened."

"What, so you just tripped and fell on his dick?"

Hannibal heaves a sigh, displeasure rolling off of him in waves. "Alana," he starts, voice full of warning, but is interrupted by a knock to the door.

"Oh shit," Will says, springing to attention as he practically falls off of Hannibal, scrambling to find his pants. "Hannibal, was there a delivery today?" he asks, eyes wild as they dart around the room. 

“Yes,  _ mylimasis,  _ the refrigerator was scheduled to be delivered today.” Hannibal replies, calmly coming to a stand.

“Oh fuck,” Will says, practically frantic, trying to pull his clothes on when he hears the door open and a man stuttering out a greeting, Alana excusing herself as she exits the house.

Will manages to get his pants on, turns to see a delivery man, beet red and smiling awkwardly. "Sorry," he says, tossing Hannibal his pants as he rounds the chair. "You can just bring it 'round back, there's a door that leads right to the kitchen." He can feel Hannibal's arms slide around his waist and his smile against his nape as the door closes behind the delivery man. "You knew he was coming didn't you, fucker?"

“The appointment may have momentarily slipped my mind.”

Will sighs, leans back against him and shakes his head. “You fucking knew Alana would walk in too.”

A kiss is pressed against his temple, and without words, Will already knows that this was planned. Perhaps not the fucking, and the three orgasms, but that he would have been open to  _ Hannibal. _ Hannibal had wanted Alana to know that she had someone precious within her grasp, and that Hannibal is more than happy to take him from her, nurture him, and love him the way he deserved to be loved. More importantly, Hannibal wanted  _ everyone _ to know just how much he loved Will.

**Author's Note:**

> This was literally inspired by a porn. It was glorious and wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote this.
> 
> Come scream at me on twitter


End file.
